The narcissus

In a world with no heroes
I wear shades of pale and
the fragile airs my mother showed me.
I'll show you reflections
while you play with all your dissafections
and reach for your face
painted on me.

Your canvas in waiting
I'm fresh for all these pretty things
you show for yourself when you are hunting.
You smile, try to hold me
I`m cold too the touch but still you want me
and how could I have lived
without your making me.

Hands peel at clothes
your head turns, coy, we pose and dance, I show
unprecious things, parades of glamour, fame and lies and dreams, your mouth says:
fuck me.
fuck me.

Your lips moving slow, the taste
of you alone, of glass and bone
an empty world, an empty hole
just you and me and us and we and
I, I, I, I, I.
fuck me.
fuck me.